Turning Tides
by The Knights Of Caper Code
Summary: Finnick Odair. The words form upon the ocean, lapping with the waves. I will find myself confronted with many things that are stranger than the turning of the tides. From talking horses who demand upon feeding, to making your own net, to put in a special place. But the stranest thing i will find by far, is what is closest to me. Find out what holds dear to Finnick Odair, Is it you?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one.

"Finnick Odair! You come here this instant!" bellowed my step mums boyfriends voice. Yep, I too own a stupid family, 'go to school', 'do your homework', 'stop bickering', and 'work harder'. Meh, I don't really like my father figure, probably because he thinks I am an idiot, but my step mum loves him, so I stay and put up with him. I look out my dusty window, I live on the second story of our little shack, I suppose you would call it an attic, but it's my room, only mine.

My family history is messy, my real father left when I was very young, my mother, distraught, eventually married again. She died when I was just six, so I was left with my step dad. My step dad married again too, and then he died, leaving me with my step mum, who now has a boyfriend, and rules my life from one breath to the next. I don't really agree with my family, I have very little other than them, I have no siblings, pets or people I can talk to when I am home, sitting in my room.

The room is small and dusty; a cracking window frame looks out across the ocean, the waves lapping at the shore. I love the way the golden sand makes a glow fall upon my room at this time of night, it makes my sea blue room shimmer with beauty, like the ocean rolling in the bowl of the world. My floorboards creak as I pace over to the other side of my room, picking up a small draw string bag. I think of what my friends would be doing at this hour, not preparing for school like usual, sitting at the table with their family, eating a feast to celebrate the hunger games. I almost wonder why people make such a fuss of the hunger games, but I come from district four, so I know there is a reason.

People from outline districts think careers are always perfect, district four is counted as a career district, but we have no fancy training centres, no special places to train to kill our opponents, no real volunteering either. I kind of like it this way, I go to school, we do have a subject where they train us for the games, but I also have to sit through the boring lectures of English, history and maths. I think the hands on training is my favourite, simply because I can't read like the other kids, nor can I sit still in a classroom for hours, without having the urge to break things. I think the olden term for it is, I'm dyslexic, and I probably have attention deficit disorder too, just don't like school that much.

My teachers don't like me, I'm fairly popular though with the kids, I always have the words, arrogant, rude, self-centred thrown at me, but to me, they are just peoples impressions of my, and really, it's up to them what they think of me. I have this one friend, I suppose he is a friend of mine, tells me I could do anything I wanted, and it would still make me more popular, all the girls just watch and swoon. I'm solo; all the guys in my grade have girls hanging off their arms, but I think they are a waste of time to bother with, there is no one near to my heart, I have so many things to live for right now as well, to waste time tying myself to one being. That and if I dated a girl, she would probably die, I am that good looking, all the other girls would probably kill her to take her place. But no ladies, we save that for the games, the killing.

You are probably throwing around in your mind the words arrogant, self-centred, and downright rude, but you have to put yourself in my shoes, I have no real parents, but the ones I do have place every rule under the sun on me, so I try to break each one, just to show them that they don't own me. I don't know why I do; I just think my real parents would want me in better hands, with better people than them.

I hear the storm clouds rumble, growing restless in the early morning haze, the window of the attic is only a few metres off the ground, plenty low enough for me to jump. Being impulsive, I clutch the drawstring bag in my hand and swing from the sill of the old shack, leaving the noise of an angry parent marching up the stairs to my room behind as I pace out onto my early morning ritual.

The ocean is the only place I truly feel calm, all anger of my parenting gone, with the waves and the tide. I don't really think about girls either when I come out here, or my 'friends' I just leave the worries of a strained world behind. I rip off my shirt as I walk towards the lapping waves, holding it gruffly in one have, the bag in the other. I find my usual rocks, wading into the pool surrounded by boulders. I find what I left here, a compacted three pointed spear, a rare weapon, the only thing I cared to listen to in History. The trident, a weapon of the great sea god, I can feel the power running through it as I stash my shirt and wade into the great ocean.

The waves lap against my bare stomach; tickling me insanely and making me feel giddy with the eternal happiness of the world. I hold my trident above my head, poised to strike, waiting for my moment to capture my prey. The fish swim in schools; I don't dare take a strike at a fast moving school, so I wait out in the bay for hours. The sun raises past the ocean, signifying that the time has come to about six thirty. I move from my planted spot in the sea floor, further out into the warm depths of the watery world. I stand waiting again. I think my mind is clearer here, waves lapping against me. It is reaping day today, not that I really care about the world right now, but I am a little scared about the outcome of the day. By tonight, two people with be on their way to the capitol, they will come back in wooden boxes, or in glory. I have the feeling that people are tiring with the games, this year will be the 65th games, and honestly, I should think the novelty should be wearing off by now.

The shimmer of the silver tail flicks pedantically through the water, swimming gracefully about four meters away from me. I poise, the fish turns head and faces me, swimming in slow circles with the pace of the ocean. I release the string of the bag, letting it flail out into a large net, gripping it with my spare hand. I throw the net, entangling the fish that thrashes frantically against the bonds. I pray that any god of nature or a god of fish doesn't mind me as I bring the trident, striking the final blow as the fish stops motion in the water. I bring my trident back up out of the bloody water, pulling the string contraption of the net, drawing it into a bag, holding the dead fish in the water to clean it as I wade back to rocky pool in which I started.

I pull myself up onto a boulder that lines the shore, sitting next to my shirt, opening the bag and releasing my catch onto the rock. I hoist my trident to my side, pulling it close to me. It was a gift from my father to my mother, which she gave to me before she died, and I never let anyone else touch it. I grab one of the tongs of the trident, and pull in sharply, twisting it harshly to the side, releasing the spring locked knife within the trident. The tong on the left side is a knife, the middle one is a spear, and the right side one holds a little contraption inside that turns salt water, into fresh water, one of my favourite things.

I use the knife to gut the fish, serving it into fillets for my lunch before the reaping. The fish I have is much larger than I was expecting to get today, and I have enough meat to trade for a loaf of bread to go with it. I find that once people start stirring in their homes the fish dissipate in the water, and do not come back until after sundown. But as soon as I have fish guts smeared on a rock, I had friends from the water and friends from the air come to try and get their share of food too. The crabs peck impatiently from the shallow pool, birds chirping and swooping to get their own part. I scrape half of the guts and blood into the water at my feat, leaving the other half on the rock for the birds. I wrap my spoil of meat in my shirt, placing it into the bag, holding one fillet in my scaly hand, compacting the trident into a solid cylinder that is about thirty centimetres long.

The trading stand by the ocean is relatively quiet today, an old lady, who I recognise is sitting there eating a bowl of soup, I don't know who she is, but I recognise her. The tender nods at me, he likes buying my fish, as it saves him from having to catch his own. The old lady smiles and nods, her wispy grey hair is blowing gently in the breeze of the ocean, her old face is weathered but lovely. I smile nicely to her, making my way to the tender.

"Catch another whopper Finnick?" asks the tender, peering at the fillet of fish clutched in my hand. I nod approvingly, "Some sort of big Trevalla, Steve." I say, placing the fillet onto the bench of the stall. Steve nods, poking at the fish, checking I am not telling fibs, not like I would any way, despite what people think. "I'll give you five for it." Steve said, I turned my head, thinking, that's a really low deal, but I didn't have anyone else to go to for trading. I ran my spare hand up through my hair, a few hours fishing gives me five dollars and a meal. I think that trade is ridiculous, but I come very close to accepting it. "Give 'im ten for it" comes a slightly gargled voice from the old lady who is sitting at the bench. Steve looks as though he would give her a dirty look, apart from the fact she could be his grandmother. He raises his eye brows instead, "Why would I want to do that?" he asks the old lady, not threatening, but pushing for an answer. She holds her firm glare, "Give 'im ten for I' you slime ball" she says, standing wobblingly off her stool. She turns to me, "Don't you dare take anythin' less for I' boy." She said to me, before hobbling off into the street, I stood there, slightly confused about why the old lady wanted to help me. Steve rolled his eyes, bringing his hand up from the till, placing ten dollars onto the counter. I nod, "Thanks Steve." I say hurriedly, leaving the fish meat on his counter and taking the money.

I find the bakery on my way home, trading a dollar for a loaf of bread, one with seaweed in it, and little seeds that make it crunchy and salty. I love the warm feeling of the crust against my hand as I take the bread. The girl at the counter is a few years older than me; she smiles a deadly sweet smile, sugar coating everything she does. I could almost feel a little uncomfortable, but I don't, I feel so calm after my strange morning, that the girl who smiles too broadly doesn't really bother me.

I reach home on the fall of eight am, a fire blazing in the kitchen, my step parents have obviously already left to look for me. I unwrap my catch, placing in in the coals of the fire to roast. I peck happily at the bread and fish as the morning progresses; I sit at the foot of my bed, peering out the window as the day floats by, floating like birds on the waves of the ocean. Not a care in the world.

A/N Hey guys! I will update every weekend, because I have tonnes of work on. If you like it, add a review and I might consider updating earlier. =D Enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Finnick Odair" screeched the voice, yep; it has started all over again, though I have no escape to sea now, the reaping is an hour away, I have no escape in my room, or excuse that I am doing something, I have done all that I have to do today. My trident has been washed; I have showered, and changed into a pair of black shorts, and an open white shirt. I look around the room hastily, looking for an escape to make me look busy. I grab furiously at the only book I dared bring home, the only one that doesn't bore me; I flip it open to a random page. The door bursts open, I look down hastily; the smile face of Aphrodite is looking up at me, the page littered with bodies of luscious girls. I close the book just as fast as I opened it, when I hear a small shocked gasp come from above me.

"Finnick ODAIR! Don't you ever use your text books for THAT!" bellows the voice of my pudgy step mother. All of a sudden, every witty comment I had in line for this awkward moment is gone, and I a left sitting on my floor, red faced and silent. My step mother kneels down before me, her piercing blue eyes look slightly out of place in her white blonde hair. "Finnick, you shouldn't look at pictures of girls who look compromised, its wrong, and your not old enough." she says firmly, grabbing the book away from my locked fingers. I rise where I am; this is usually where she drags me by my ear to the table to share a meal with my 'parents' but when I do stand, she points at the door. "Get out and go to the Reaping, your not getting dinner tonight for this." she banishes the book at me; I pick up a small pearl necklace as I walk out the door of my room. The necklace was a gift to my mother, from my father, but my step mother doesn't know that.

She glares at my when I pick it up, a glare that looks like I set a million sand crabs loose in her house, she thinks I have stolen it. "You take that back right now!"The voice bellows my step mum, again. I run to the door of the house, breaking out into the light of the fresh morning. I run down the street, the sand feeling nice along my toes, having forgotten shoes, I can look as casual as I like. I stop just before the rope line for the signing in. I bend down, the pearl necklaces weaving between my fingers. I loop the sting of pearls twice around my ankle, tying it on for good luck. I have worn this for the past two years reaping's, and I hope it keeps me safe again. A brainwave hits me like the rolling tide, another way to annoy my step-parents. I unbutton my shirt the entire way down, and I mess up my hair with my fingers. That will make them furious, being all uncouth and obviously gorgeous.

I stride up to the line, girls giggle at the line of boys, most of the people who come early, come to meet someone. I just want to be at the front this year, just to infuriate my step-parents more; they hate it when I go up the front. I pass my hand to the peacekeeper, I lock eyes with a tall but young dark haired girl with sea green eyes, crying, it's probably her first year with all of this, I feel sorry for her. The Peacekeeper jabs a needle into the tip of my finger, the little girl looks at me with a horrified expression, and I smile reassuringly, walking off into the crowd. I always do that, lock eyes with someone when I am injured, or in pain, just something I do. I think it tells them that you are going to be ok, no matter what happens after that.

I shove my way through the crowd, standing beside the front rope; people are flooding in here now, trying to put themselves in the right spot for the cameras, or for their trip to the death. People here want to make the best impression at first, because we are a career district, you get a step up above the others, why not leap?

The feeling of others bodies pressing against mine tells me that it's time for the reaping to start, the green haired boy bounces onto the stage, and his hair is a ridiculous shade of unnatural dye, waving in the ocean spray. The justice building is standing just as it does every year, the two mentors for this year are sitting on chairs at the back of the stage, with the Mayor of District four waiting impatiently for the reaping to properly to begin. I lock eyes with the older female mentor; she looks at me with a kind, yet woe-some expression, her blue eyes shining in an odd way. She looks down and away from me, and I feel slightly colder, like her eyes were trying to say something to me, something important.

"We shall, as usual, start with the girls from District Four," the strangely bouncy man dipped his hand into the bowl of names, drawing a single card out of the bowl and straightening it laboriously. "Lamia Decker" screamed the man, with glee; he was almost bouncing out of his shoes when he found the girl with a shocked expression on her face. She was young, probably only 13, with short blond hair and harsh blue eyes. I had seen her at the training centre, training with her grade, she was very quiet, but had a weird stance. The walked mechanically up to the stage, standing with her mouth slightly open as though she was totally shocked. The crowd, as usual, gave an applause, and cheer for the girl, who would be representing our district.

"And the boy is" the bouncy man sung again, dipping his hand into the bowl of names, his hand grasped onto two pieces of paper, he drew them from the bowl, before obviously struggling to decide between the two pieces of fancy paper. He picked up one of them, placing it back into the bowl, with a slightly indecisive look on his face; he picked the other one up, straightening it as he did the other one.

"Finnick Odair"

I knew that name. It belonged to me. It was yelled up the stairs every morning as I snuck secretly out the window. It was a name that my father had given to me. It was my name, and no one else would claim it. This was the start of everything, I had to win, I had to be popular, and it all begins now.

I felt all of the cameras turn to face me, my face beaming out onto the big screen, the crowd seemed surprisingly quiet. So I did the thing I thought my step parents would hate the most. I drew one hand through my golden hair as I stepped over the rope to reach the path; I wiped the surprise off my face and filled it with a cheeky grin. I walked down the sandy path, passing a camera as I went, so I did the obvious thing, I winked at the capitol. I strode onto stage as the crowd finally started their applause; the screams of joy were reining through the air life seagulls at a dead fish. Then it hit me, I might look like a dead fish to the eyes of the capitol, and to the eyes of some of the other tributes. But I sure as hell didn't plan on turning into one.

"And now we have our two tributes for this year!" said the bouncy man, almost jumping with joy at the crowds response, I turned to the little girl, she had a slightly deranged look in her eyes that kind of made me feel like she wanted to kill me, not that she would try. Her hand shake was feeble, and she was at least a head and a half shorter than me, but the short blonde hair made me suspicious of this little girl.

I spun around to face the crowd, smiling my 'I'm good looking and you know it' smile, while they all screamed at me. I couldn't really hear much, but I caught a few eyes as I looked around the crowd, a familiar blue pair of a boy in my grade who thinks I like him, a green pair that belonged to a guy I knew was at his last reaping, who looked like he might volunteer just to stop me smiling, a blue eyed girl who looked like she was trying to decide whether to volunteer or not, and a familiar green pair. Sea green, dark hair, I couldn't draw my eyes away from her crying face, pushed up against the rope at her first reaping. I just wanted to lean out and comfort her, but a peace keeper pushed me towards the door.

The last pair of eyes I caught before I entered the doors were a pair of blue eyes, on the old mentor, she looked at me sadly, like she didn't want this to have happened to me, personally I didn't really want it either, but I couldn't help it. The old lady nodded gently as I passed, as though she was reading my thoughts, a chill ran up my spine as I realised what would happen next. My family would come and say good bye.

They aren't my real family, but they are all I have, despite how fun I think it is to annoy them. My room was a vastly sea-orientated decorated room. The walls were blue, the couches were green and the floor was a sandy golden colour. I don't know why, but it all seemed like it was just a shade of the wrong colour, like it was decorated by someone who had never actually seen the ocean.

My step mother came alone, I felt almost betrayed, a little angry, but I couldn't mouth it now, at a time like this. She looked up at me, I was taller that she was when I first met her, and I was like, eight then. "Finnick" she said, sounding almost harsh, "Think about what you want, what you really want" she said, confusing me slightly, but I didn't really know what to think of things either. "You could win" she mused, playing slightly with her hair, but I felt unsure of what she was saying again, like she knew something I didn't. "But you have to ask yourself," she fell short, a strange look coming over her eyes. "Whether it is right." She said bluntly, leaving me just as stumped as I was before. She looked me in the eye, and quickly backtracked through the door.

That isn't how it is meant to be, aren't families meant to cry and sob when they lose a loved one? Aren't they meant to send every one that cares about the person to see them? Isn't there meant to be a long and drawn out goodbye? Not just a, you could win, but I don't want you to, sort of thing. I wanted something real, a real goodbye, a real ocean orientated room, the real way my life was meant to play out, not just something that had been arranged by someone else.

Two peace keepers came for me, walking quickly to put me on the train station, which happened to be connected to the back of the peace building. I was marvelling at the train I had seen throughout my child hood, taking away children who would never come back, people who were in my position now, confused, angry, and maybe even a little scared. The entire marvel had worn off, I gripped the handle of rail as I hoisted myself up, throwing one last cheeky smile over my shoulder as I boarded the train to my possible doom.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

It was more than anything I could have every imagined. The train held relics of the ocean, on walls, in baskets, even the table had seashells inlaid into the structure. I could have stared at the room for hours, wondering why they insisted on making the train so much like my home. The I realised she was behind me, the little girl who was reaped with me, and our two older mentors sat happily at the table, waiting for us to sit with them, while I just stood and stared at the shells of millennia scattered around the room.

I sat down across the table from the mentors, the male mentor was middle aged, a grey crew cut, and a hard expression, he looked as though he was entirely made of muscle when he was younger, but now that was all just wasting away. The female mentor was even older, she could've been my grandmother, and despite the fact my grandmother was most probably dead. She smiled that same sad smile at me, as I took my seat, and the train lurched to motion. The little girl I remember as Lamia, placed herself next to me, piercing eyes catching on all aspects of the room.

"When do you want to start?" said the man firmly, directing the question at me, as though the girl didn't really matter, it was obvious he wanted to train me. I felt my eyes grow wide, I was even a little scared of this man, thinking of all of the children he had murdered, seen murdered, and taught to murder others, just so they can go home. I swallowed loudly, my mouth feeling a little bit dry, in fact, a lot dry. "I don't really want to…" I muttered, my voice turning raspy and quiet, the man seemed taken aback. "You don't want to start training?" he said, voice growing to being a dangerous volume and temperature. "Well…No. I don't." I was cut off short by his growl. "You don't want to train?" he questioned harshly. "I want to train," I said quietly, all volume lost from my voice. "But I just don't want to change." I muttered scared about the man's reaction.

"Change?" he said disbelievingly, "You don't want to change? Kid, have you looked at yourself." He said, and that kind of set me off. "You look like a prostitute." He said, and he said it really harshly. So I threw the nearest item I could find at him, it happened to be a saucer and teacup. I threw the teacup first, and he caught it, making me look stupid, "You look like a male stripper that's started early, and there is nothing you can do to explain yourself" he said, and as he was talking I pelted the saucer at his head. It hit him and shattered, right between his eyes. Suddenly I found myself standing a metre back from the table, tears pouring down my face, "You have no idea!" I yelled at him, and he was standing now too. "Oh yeah!" he yelled. "You have no idea about anything that's happened to me!" His eyes lit up with fury, "Oh really, stay out too late with you girlfriend?" he yelled, picking up a plate of his own, He threw it as he yelled. "Because that anklet makes you look gay!" and then he stormed out of the room, I was a still a little shocked about what had just happened. I was really thankful the man had a bad aim; his plate hit the wall behind me.

I had the sudden urge to fall to the floor, to rack up sobbing, and stay there until the end of the train ride. But I knew I couldn't, I had to build up the courage and learn to fight. The old lady at the table smiled sadly at me again, and I wondered if it was the only thing she could do, but then she held her face higher, as though she just had an excellent idea, she shuffled from the room and out the same door the man had left via. That left the little girl sitting there stunned at the dinner table, pieces of plates all over the floor, and me standing stunned beside a wall, shocked about what had happened.

The girl turned to look at me, he face shocked that I had done what I had; personally I was a little stunned too. She had one of those weird smiles on her face that made her look deranged, and evil. I felt myself scowling at her as I walked back over to the table, sitting in my seat again; she stared at me, still. It made me want to throw something at her too. I sat in silence, staring out the window on the opposite side of the train, while the girl continued gawking. It seemed like half an hour passed when the old mentor lady came back in, she looks as though she had just been through a heated debate, my guess was, and she had.

"Lamia, dear, you will train in the lounge from now." She said, her voice gargled slightly, probably because she had a few teeth missing. The little girl stood swiftly, flicked a slightly nervous glance to me, and then smile at the old mentor, before following through the door the man had gone through. The old mentor looked at me curiously, as though she actually wanted to hear what I was talking about, it made me slightly calmer than I had been earlier. She gave one of her feeble smiles and nodded gently. "Tell me about yourself." She said, in that same gargled voice that she always had, I was confused about where to start.

I told her everything, about how my parents kept dying and being replaced by another step parent, who slowly liked me less and less. I even told her how I did things just to annoy them, she seemed to smile more at that, I think she though it was funny. I told her what I was like at school. I had no friends who I trusted everything in, but I had people hung out with. I was unsure about what to say on my hobbies. But her blue eyes grew warm and motherly to me, and I ended up spilling the fact that I sneak out of my bedroom every morning to go into the ocean, to get food, because my new parents aren't much into feeding me when I want feeding. She laughed gently when I told her how annoy the trader is.

Then I looked in her eyes, it was only this morning I had seen them, by the shore at the traders stall, telling the trader he was a slime ball. I had to draw my memory back a few days, and I remember I had seen her at the stall before, buying fish of him. I realised that she was the lady who bought the fish of the trader, after he bought it from me. I had a strange feeling that she had been there watching me for a while, but I couldn't remember anytime I had seen her before this morning. She noticed I had stopped talking, and was staring at her. Her smile still played happily on her lips.

"And your favourite weapon?" she questioned, though I think she already knew the answer. I looked into her eyes. "I use a net, and a spear, or a knife" I muttered. She gave me a, your not telling the whole story, kind of look. I looked up and smiled gently. "I do know, I just want you to admit it." She said slightly gruffly, a smile still playing at the sides of her face. "I use a trident most." I said earnestly, looking her in the eye. She nodded gently, before turning away from me.

She stood and shuffled over to the television, turning it on, and it started to replay the reapings, I knew these people would either be my allies, or enemies. I just had to decide which.

I had to observe and judge who I thought would be useful, I knew that much. The district ones, a girl who volunteered without even thinking about the tribute, she walked proudly onto the stage. I was told by my mentor that she was sixteen. She had blonde hair, blue eyes and a killer expression; I knew that she would be pretty lethal if you ran into her on a dark night, her name was definitely not lethal though, Satin. The boy from district one was also a volunteer, tall, muscled, blonde hair and the same type of blue eyes, about eighteen years old. Haygon was his name, and I knew this would be a tough year just from that.

The district twos were both volunteers too, the girl, Omusa is seventeen, black hair and brown eyes, a simple expression, but I knew it would change as soon as you handed her a weapon. Her district partner could be her twin, seventeen years old, and the same description of dark hair, and brown eyes, his name, Ludger.

The district threes, well, I thought it was just going to be a career fight, but no. I had the worst luck, the girl Kendra was sixteen, with black hair, and brown eyes, and a kind expression. The boy Daviat had black hair and green eyes, and a hard expression. He was about seventeen as well, which made everyone in the games so far, older than me.

Next on the screen came, the girl Lamia, looking like a china doll compared to the rest of the field thus far. Then came me, you could tell that the entire crown was clutched on the edge of their seat as the mad tossed up between the two pieces. Then he called my name, and that smile. God, I did look like a bit of a hopelessly adorable kid. The camera was being naughty, and lingered on the top of my shorts a moment too long, and then on the anklet. I knew that the screaming of the crowds sounded different than normal. I think they liked me a little too much.

The screen flashed over to district five, showing the girls reaping from there. She was the only one from the other districts who maybe could have matched my age. She looked about fourteen, flaming red hair, green eyes and the name Edra. The boy from district five also had green eyes, but he had duller hair, more of a reddish brown, his name is Amoll.

The district six's looked like a stunned rabbit when they were called, the girl, Peregrina, is probably fifteen, brown hair that was quite long and blue eyes that seemed odd on a girl with dark hair. The boy, was the same age, with brown hair and brown eyes, called Faer. I thought they acted a bit strangely when they had to shake hands, kind of like the knew each other, and didn't want this to be real.

The district seven tributes were a little younger, the girl looked fifteen, brown hair, green eyes, a determined expression and the name Silvanna. The boy looked a year younger, probably fourteen, the same brown hair and green eyes, he had the name Keith. The boy seemed a lot more nervous about the whole situation, like his district partner might accidentally slit his throat as they shook hands.

The tributes from district eight both had flaming red hair, which quite shocked my, they looked too like they could be related, but I noticed a lot of people in that district had red hair. The girl was probably fifteen, blue eyes to match her hair, and the name Paisley. The boy held himself a little higher, probably sixteen years old, blue eyes and the name Caddis. I thought it might be an interesting year from district eight; who usually ended in the dust early.

The district nines also looked a little similar, but I was starting to feel maybe all district people look like everyone else from their district. The girl, probably seventeen, had blue eyes and blonde hair, her name is Zea, she looked firm, but a little pliable if you pushed her. The boy was younger, about fifteen, blonde hair, and blue eyes, with the name of Dagan.

The tributes from district ten look different, which makes me a little bit happier. The girl is fourteen years old, golden hair and brown eyes, called Linnea; she is small and looks fragile. The boy from district ten is eighteen, looks capable, with brown hair and brown eyes, he is tall an well built. I don't know what to think about this district, they seem so, different.

The tributes from district eleven are probably the most different. The girl is tall, about sixteen, black hair and deep brown eyes; she looks kind of capable, but not majorly dangerous, her name is Ceres. The boy is the youngest tribute. Only twelve years old, black hair and brown eyes, he is scared and weak, it makes it very obvious, and his name is Tillman.

The districts twelves are the last to be reaped. The girl is about sixteen blonde hair and blue eyes, dainty and small, she has the name Getta. The boy is younger too, only about thirteen, with black hair and grey eyes, called Buxton. They don't look ready at the reaping, they look scared and weak.

I go over the information I see in my head a few times. The old mentor places herself across the table from me again, looking at me. "The average age is fifteen and a half." She said, and I didn't really understand for a moment, but then I did, I am one of the youngest tributes. So I will start with a disadvantage, unless I get the capitol to fall in love with me.

The old mentor, who I now know name is Mags, told me to go to sleep early. I can't blame her, she looked like she might die at any minute, so I went to my compartment, and lay restlessly in my bed, thinking about the day, and how surprising it had been.

Sleep took me eventually, I prayed that every time I fell asleep, there would always be a waking, and no lying in an abyss of darkness while my soul rots in hell sort of thing.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

I did eventually awaken, it was however exceptionally late in the morning when I did. The sun had started etch itself up the wall of the room, and the light was warming the room at a considerable rate, almost like it did at home. But not quite. I rolled around on the white sheets lying graciously in the sun for the urge to get up from my haven. But I couldn't imagine anything better than a lazy morning, lying in the warm sun, without a shirt. There is something serene about being alone, yet warm. Something I could enjoy by myself.

I did eventually stir, the scene outside the window changing to a different landscape as I found some clothing, inside a draw that was full of fashion statements I didn't really wish to make. I found clothes that matched my old outfit, dark blue shorts and a plain white formal shirt. Which I did button up. I found no shoes in the draws that I searched, so I found myself waiting cautiously to open the, bare feet, and the same look as yesterday.

I peered out into the hallway, walking cautiously out and closing the door quietly. I found my way back into the dining cart, where I had spent all of yesterday. The bouncy blue man sat next to my mentor Mags, Lamia was nowhere to be seen, and thankfully, the other mentor wasn't here either. The bouncy man smiled broadly, I couldn't help but look slightly confused, I grimaced at his unnatural blue lips as I sat down in my place. The man stopped his smile briefly, "Morning" he sang, I looked at him, wondering why anyone would want to look like that. I swallowed nervously, sitting down, struggling to draw my eyes of the man, but I brought them back to a pair of familiar eyes, Mags. The man bounced up out of his seat as I sat down, I almost caught myself flinching, wondering whether he was going to hit me or not, but he just smiled and bounced out of the room. "Going to see the others!" he called, skipping out of the room. I looked nervously at Mags; she was looking at me comically. Then she started laughing. "You look like you've just been bitten by a fish" she chortled, my face broke into an uneasy smile. I found myself immediately embarrassed. "He is scary" I muttered, reaching across the table to pick up some food onto my plate, realising I didn't have dinner last night.

Mags looked at me, shoving a plate of food over for me to eat. I picked at his cautiously, before relaxing and digging in. "Sponsors." Said Mags, slightly muffled like usual. I looked up, seeing a look in her eye that made me cautious. "I need them" I said clearly, swallowing before continuing. "I already have a slight disadvantage to the others, being younger, I need all the help I can." I said, as if trying to convince myself of this fact. Mags pulled one of her shaky hands off the table, and flicked a hair out of my eye, smiling motherly at me. "I think the capitol might like you too much already" she muttered. I smile, embarrassed. "But continue with what you have already." She said, I knew it meant the charming, happy, gorgeous, godly boy from district four, who might accidently melt your heart, sort of thing.

The breakfast is hearty, and is completely gone when the train pulls to a stop. Mags grabs my hand and pulls me up to be standing beside her as we arrive at the station. I see a smile in her eyes, and a playful look on her lips, and she examines what I'm wearing. She does the old lady, tutting, and I expect her to button up my shirt fully and comb my hair. But instead she laughs with her mouth and opens all of my shirt buttons, exposing my skin. I feel the smile coming off her lips, but a sad trend runs through her eyes, as she turns away, towing me towards the door. The eyes remind me of the ocean, and its solitude of one purpose, never finding happiness in its eternal lapping against the shore. Sadness, Solitude, and then screaming people.

The screaming people come from the outside of the train. Hands waving in the air of capitol fashion, trying to catch a glimpse of me. I try and leave behind the memories of the sad eyes, and draw myself out to be a smiling face for the cameras.

Mags drags me through the crowd, pulling my arm so I have to follow her lead, but I try to catch as many eyes as possible with my stupid grin as I pass the crowds of people. I pull closer to Mags as I get through the bottom doors of the training centre, which will be my home for the next few days, before the arena. The bottom Foyer is massive; I gawk at the ceiling of different decorating as it passes by me.

I catch small glimpses of other tributes as they are pulled into their own styling areas, Mags smiles at me, still holding my hand as I make my way into my own area. I can tell from Mags expression that she doesn't particularly like this stage; she probably has bad memories from her time in the training centre, before going into the arena to murder people. I imagine that it brings back awful memories of the blood, guts and horror of her own childhood. It sends a shiver up my spine and I feel the muscles in my stomach tense slightly.

Mags gently lets go of my hand, saying nothing as she peers at me from under her hair, then leaves the room silently. My stylist walks through the door seconds after Mags has gone away. She is tall, platinum blond hair that falls long around her waist. She wears a dress that is blue and green, painted like the waves. I think it is another imitation that doesn't quite get it right, but she is my stylist, so I am supposed to like her. She walks over to me, a devilish smile falls upon her young face, and I can tell she likes what she sees.

"Finnick Odair" she murmurs, walking over to me and running her hand gently through my hair as she walks around me "Phillippa" she says, asserting her own name. I nod politely as she sits down in front of me, her hair flicking playfully through her fingers as she looks at me. "What kind of look are you going for, sailor?" she asks playfully, I can tell she is deliberately trying to lay it on thick just to see what kind of person I am. "A natural one." I say, nicely playing along with her game. She looks at me, mocking the seriousness. Then she burst out laughing, I join in lightly. "I take the natural look is just showing off you great abs to get the ladies." She says chortling. "Even if you are like thirteen." She says, coming back to herself. I smile, feeling a little insulted, but overall quite happy that.

She stands up after a moment a goes to rummaging in all of her stuff, the boxes and the bags of stuff become quickly upturned in her attempt to find whatever it is. She finds it after dragging out her search all over the room, making things go everywhere. She surfaces with a small shopping bag, bringing it back over to me. She settles into her seat across from me, and pulls two huge coils of silky rope out of the small bag; I wonder how they even fit in there.

Phillippa hands me a coil of rope as she looks up at me. "You know the netting knot I take it?" she asks stupidly, "Of course I do." I scoff, starting to tie the first knot, my fingers fumbling with the silky twine, which is so dissimilar to what I usually work with. I look up and find the she has also started making knots in her rope, her hands, moving worse than mine. I stop her hands gently with mine. "Why don't we start with something **_easy_** like a noose?" I ask in mocking seriousness, but the bubbly, chaotic laughter on her face is a little too much to be just laughing at me, I withdraw my hand, and through her chortling words she says "I don't think the noose would be particularly pleasant for what we are doing." She say, going back to the knotting of her rope. I start mine again, getting frustrated by the slipper knots. I look up at her, working away silently. "Why aren't we using normal rope? It's much easier." I say, stopping my work, her blue eyes find me, "Finnick, if you knew what it was for, you wouldn't be complaining about how smooth it is." And she begins her knotting again.

From then I don't complain, I just make a large net that could almost scale the length of the room, Phillippa's is much shorter, more tightknit. I don't think there is much use for a net that small, or thick, wouldn't really catch much. But I don't comment as I set my knots down on my lap to watch her finish. She does soon after I start watching, and then she looks up at me. "Stand up," she says gently.

I oblige, of course, being probably the most stupid I will ever be in my life. I stood up like a gentleman for the lady. Her next comment could have been suspect, or completely out of the blue, but after what people had been saying to me, I wasn't really surprised. "Take off your clothes, handsome." She says, grabbing the collar of my white shirt and tugging at it gently. I feel my face grow red, my body feel hot, I grab the collar of my shirt as she lets go, and pull it gently off my arms. I feel her eyes on me, it feels strange, and she examines me, gently taking the white shirt from my fingers. I stand there, shirt completely off, exposing my abs, glorious abs the cold air.

Usually its normal for me to wander around without a shirt on, it's like wandering around in your pyjamas at home. Phillippa stops walking around me, and stops, in front of me, looking at me. I smile hesitantly at her, as though unsure of what to do next.

"And the rest." She says impatiently, I feel my face blush even hotter than it was before, I slowly unbutton my shorts, sliding them down my legs slowly, as if questioning whether this was the right thing to do. I look up to Phillippa, and hand her my shorts. I get the best feeling when she turns around and blushes slight, laughing at her own reaction. She drops my short next to my shirt, and looks back at me. Admiring what she sees. I smile broadly, she obviously thinks I have good body, and so do I, so we're even.

I wonder what I'll be wearing, gazing around at the bags and boxes when she places a gentle hand on my shoulder. Looking me straight in the eye, I see how embarrassed she really is. "You're going to have to take your shorts off too Finnick." She says, smiling at me. The blush is back, she drops her hand. "Not unless you want me to do it for you." She says. I could have dropped what I was holding; luckily I wasn't holding anything, so it was just my jaw that fell. A girl, asking to take my underwear off for me. Well I guess we all learn things about ourselves in the games, some more than others. So I slip of the underwear, realising that I was wearing a beautifully new blue pair that accentuate just how tan I am. I hand them to her, and she looks like she's about to drop. I laugh gently at her expression; it is one that I will never forget.

So I am standing naked in a room with a girl, not how I intended this day to go, but I don't really mind. Phillippa turns around and picks up the nets, I think I should have been more concerned earlier, but it is too late for that now. Phillippa smiles, embarrassed, and then kneels down in front of me. Yep, all sanity gone now. I heard stories from my 'friends' about what they get up to with girls, and I really didn't want it to turn into that now. Her hands are soft, but they still send a shiver up my stomach where she touches me. Then I realise that I'll be wearing the rope. She places it around the concerned area, and then leans in closer.

My face is probably redder than fish blood, as she ties the rope together behind my back. I am actually certain she could have tied the rope a different way, like, by standing up, or even asking me to. But no, she had to do it herself. She stands; her face is really red as she brings herself to full height. I can see just how embarrassed she is, red faced, biting her lip, and averting her eyes from mine. When I finally catch her eyes, I smile smugly at her. It feels so tense for a moment. Then I am laughing ridiculously at her, her expression, her stance, and how embarrassed she now feels.

She flicks her blond hair over her shoulder, bending down to pick up the next line of netting. Her hand grasps it, holding it awkwardly at her side as she stands up. I find her eyes and she smiles awkwardly at me again. I almost get the feeling from her eyes that she wants to punch me, but won't because she afraid I might tickle her to death or something ridiculous like that. She flutters her eyelashes nervously, I often notice when people are nervous. She holds her arm out from her boy, offering me the rope. "Do you want to do it this time?" she asks, looking down at the floor occasionally. I can tell the bravado of her trying to intimidate me has worn off, and now she is so embarrassed by how good looking I am that she wants the ground to come up and eat her.

I take the rope from her, catching her icy eyes and fluttering my lashes at her. "You can if you want." I say, weighing the netting in my hands for a moment, then realising I have no idea how I am meant to put on a piece of rope. She blushes, obviously, not even trying to hide it under her hair like some girls, but letting the redness of her cheeks come on full view for me. She flustered umming the word no for a second before composing herself back into relative human conversation. "Just take the loop, third from the end in your left leg" she instructed, I looked down, the newest game of how to tie yourself in a knot, is now in session. I lifted my leg up, accidently flashing in her direction from underneath the skirt of rope, and then putting my leg through as instructed.

The smile from her face was a bit weird as she told me the next instruction. "Take the rope, yes that piece, five knots down and then know the entire rope there." She said, as I fiddled around with the slightly uncomfortable rope. I did what I was told, knotting it correctly. I suddenly realised why she had said what she had earlier, about the smoothness of the rope, and how uncomfortable a noose would be. I take back everything I said earlier; her way is probably a lot more comfy. And possibly safer.

"And now that the other end, three from the bottom loop, and put your right leg through." She said, pointing out the pieces of rope I needed to be dealing with, and I got into those loops acceptably before she continued. "Take the netting at the back now, and tie it at your left hip." Her voice getting a little calmer now than it was when she was fiddling with the netting. I think I am a bit calmer too, back in my own habitat, away from girl prying eyes, just fixing netting and being gorgeous.

She stepped back for a moment, looking at the mess of a net I was now wearing, and wondering, with a look in her eyes, that there was something she wanted to change. Her voice was small again, embarrassed, weak. "Can you take off the original net Finnick?" she asked, her face starting to turn a different colour once again. I did as I was told though, that's what you have to do, so I untied it from the back, and pulled the first net out from under the new one. That made the new netting to large and baggy in all the wrong places. I could see Phillippa gulp as I handed her the first net again, but she took it.

"You should probably tighten it Finnick." She said, voice sounding slightly strained, so strained even that it made me smile. I fiddled around with the side of the netting, making sure everything in the make shift undergarments were in the correct place. I turned back to see Phillippa with a pair scissors, cutting the first net into a much smaller net. I wondered just what she had in mind with it, as I gazing over her work, watched her finish it.

She wondered over to be a little closer to me, placing the scissors down on her way and holding the much smaller piece of net in her hand. I could see a glimmer in her eye that this was the last piece of the costume, but I could tell it may be even worse to attach than the first. She gulped, placing the net into my hands. "Tie it under the knot and the front, and then make sure that it ties on at the back." She said. I looked at her, raising my eyebrows at her expression. She gave me an exceptionally sarcastic smile and turned around to be facing the wall. Yeah, wimp. Of course then I started rummaging. It was difficult to make the net, let alone attach it, but then turn it into a garment. I fiddled around with the loose ends of the rope for ages, making sure that they all tied on secure.

I think nothing was showing when she turned around, at least Phillippa looked a bit happier, seeing her piece finally together on such a beautiful beast as me. I felt her eyes catch mine and then her lips formed sad words that made me really confused, more confused that everything else that had happened to me. "So like your mother." She muttered as she turned around, rummaging in her boxes of goodies. "Lay down Finnick" she called over her shoulder, and she found watch she was looking for.

I lay down, staring intently at the ceiling as she opened a tub of powder, and got a large brush. She walked over to me, placing a gentle, cold hand on my stomach, making me feel a little tingly. I could see she was going to accentuate my muscles with the makeup, because she was peering all over my chest in the way only a girl could do. She looked a little further down, and then did something that surprised me. She put the lid back on the powder, and put it down on the bench. "I think we're bulging quite enough actually." She said. And I burst out laughing. Yeah, she should think that they are quite big enough, thanks. And then she laughed with me until I was dragged away with her, to go and meet my new fate.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

Mags met me in the underground stable, a smile on her face that told me she knew what had happened. A teasing smile, with the same sad eyes I have seen when I was with her on the train. I stood with Phillippa and Mags beside a horse cart, hearing conversations going on within my head. The strange sort of conversations that I couldn't quite make out who in the room was talking, but I knew they were. I could hear it as clear as day.

"I'm really hungry." Moaned one of the voices, annoyed slightly that no one was feeding them, probably been styled for the last few hours, so they have had about as much food as I have, none. "I wish I could just mosey on over to the table in the corner with the food." said the second voice. I looked around, and surely enough, there was a table full of apples water bottles and sweets. I looked at it strangely, having no idea who was talking, but suddenly realising just how hungry I am.

I looked down at to Mags, who is standing beside me; she has her eyes locked on mine when I look at her. She nods gently, "Help yourself to the food." She says gruffly, stumbling off in the other direction, towards the horses. I looked around over my shoulder, meandering over to the table of snacks, peering around cautiously.

The table is streamed high with goodies, from cakes, to slices I have never even seen before. One thing catches my eye the most. A small bowl of stacked sugar cubes, next to the beverages. It brings back one of the earliest memories I have, one that I thought I had long since forgotten. My mother sitting against a blue wall, fading in the sunlight that is streaming through the window, onto the floorboards. It is obvious we are in the attic, my room. Her golden hair, falling playfully as she smiles over to me, I giggle, probably only a few years old. I look over to my mother, her beauty radiating over me like a barrier against harm. My father stood, a wise face painted on him, his black hair short, a kind, gentle, wise smile painted on his face. He has his hand resting gently on my mothers should, they look young, but eternal. I think over it fondly, going about my daily activities as a young child. I hear my mother utter a few words to my father, as a sad look paints itself into his eyes. "He is perfect." She whispers, voice as beautiful as her radiant face. His eyes turn to look at her, the sadness still present in the deep ocean green. "Thank you." he murmured, turning slowly, looking over his shoulder one last time as he goes to leave, and picking up a small cube on the way, a sugar cube, "For the journey" he says finally, disappearing from the room. I look over to my mother, confused. I see a bead of tear in her eye, a sad look on her face, but a cherishing look as she glances over to me. She walks swiftly, with grace over to the bowl sitting beside the door, bringing it over to me. I note the pearl necklace ties around her neck, as she leans down and passes a cube to me.

I find my hand inside the bowl before I can stop myself. I grab an entire handful and scoop the small white cubes up into my palm. I go to stuff them in my pocket when I realise how nude I am, shrugging of the prior thought I walk back over to where I was standing before, putting a small cube in my mouth, absorbing the sweetness and sugar that I had been missing all day.

The calling voice was suddenly screaming at me. "Sugar Cubes, God bless our lord." it praised, I spun around, trying to find the voice. Nothing. "Oi, Kid. Come over here with those sugar cubes." The second voice said. "Not call our boss 'kid' it s rude." piped in the first voice again. This time I spun around frantically, wanting to know exactly who was talking, but found no one talking. I stopped spinning at the site of two black horses, their long, slender neck inclined towards me. One nickered quietly. "Yes over here Master" the first voice said.

I thought this was really creepy, so I took one, cautious step forwards. Stopping to wait for a reaction, there was none for a few seconds. "Just a bit closer with the sugar cubes lord, our necks aren't that long." said the second voice again. Yep, here we go. Completely mad, thinking there is a horse talking to me about sugar cubes. Even if it was, I didn't know if I was going to give it one. They are mine. I popped a second sugar cube in my mouth and it started to dissolve like the first one, the first voice rang through my head again, "We don't think anyone is mad, we just want one sugar cube each, boss." The first voice was sounding ever so nice. I rolled my eyes, think just how very loony this all sounded.

I took a few delicate steps over towards the two horses, they both have their eyes fixed on me, and they incline their heads to be looking at me. They both keep their muzzles politely to themselves, though I get the idea that I can hear their thoughts. I put my hand, slowly, deliberately, into the bowl of sugar cubes, picking out just one. The scream of thoughts comes loud and fast. "Me first!" "No ME!" "Don't give it to that boofhead Boss!" "You should give it to me, he called me a boofhead." "Oh yeah, well you do have chaff for brains!" I found myself laughing soon after. Laughing at two horses having an argument in my head over who gets the first sugar cube. Yeah, I think I need less sugar if I want to come down of this high, but I like sugar. The sugar cube, sitting solely in my hand was in my mouth before I knew it. Both of the horses were disappointed. "I want one, Boss." "Yeah, Lord, Give me one, I'll be good then, I promise." moaned the two voices.

I picked up a sugar cube, holding it in my hand for a moment. Silence, yep, I thrust my hand forward quickly, the horse takes the cube instantly, I grab a second, and feed it to the next horse. The noises coming over the brain intercom are amazing. One horse is on a high, the other one sounds like he is in grandeur of pleasure. "Woo Hoo! Go Boss! More, More, More! Feed me another boss, Come one, Gimme, I love me some sugar cubes!" "Mmmmmhhhh, yeah, that's nice." I burst out laughing at the two horses reactions. They seem to really enjoy sugar.

I notice people filling into the stable as I am laughing, then I realise I will end up looking like a fruitcake if other tributes see me talking to a horse. I meander over to the side of my Chariot, where I find Lamia standing quietly, alone. She smiles a little as I stand beside her, I can see her eyes widen a little as she sees my outfit, as she is dressed in a bathing suit, patterned to be like the ocean waves, her hair is done, and she looks great. I see she smiles, embarrassed. "How were your prep team?" she asks, her voice a little awkward. I looked at her. I didn't have a prep team. "I only have one stylist." I said quietly, looking down t my hand and picking up a sugar cube to eat. "Oh really, said Lamia, you are meant to have three." She says, slowly, like I have been cheated out of a good deal. I purse my lips and nod gently.

I find Lamia looking down at my hand, when I catch her, she looks away slightly awkwardly. I should try to be nice to her, so I extend my hand to her. "Want a sugar cube, Darling" I say, with certain sweetness in my voice. I see her blush ridiculously, taking the second last cube out of my hand. I place the last one into my mouth as I go and get into the chariot, Lamia going into the other side.

I stand in silence for about thirty seconds, before Mags appears out of the crowd of people who are now streaming into the stable. She smiles at me with I know-all smile, that makes me a little edgy, but then she starts talking words of advice, so I felt a bit better. "Smile and wave Finnick" she instructs. Patting my hand sympathetically. "Be brave" she murmurs as I feel the chariot start to move off slowly.

The lights are the first thing I notice, trained directly on us. Each chariot gets a certain time of illumination as they come out from under the stable. The screams coming from the crowd from the districts before us is shocking. District three gets a bit less of an invitation than the others.

The screaming as my face comes into light is deafening. I smile with the same cheeky smile as I always do to the ladies, placing my sugar covered hand onto one of my hips as we start moving into the bright lights. I bring my other hand up, waving a certain girls as we pass by them. I guess this is the style I'm meant to be going to, irresistible, as my lights up every screen in Panem, for more time than it probably should.

People throw roses, chocolates. I even catch a pair of ladies underwear as I smile to the side of the chariot. I see flings of colour fly past the side, the fashion blind me almost a much of the lights. The smiling and waving slows as I reach the end of a five minute run, obviously reaching the presidents mansion. We come to a complete stop, the lights less bright here; I can see the other tributes, littered around in carriages, wearing the finery from their districts. President Snow, give us his icy speech, the same words haunting me from years before. I feel his glare upon me as the crowd screams restlessly on random occasion. It unnerves me, the cold blues eyes, yet I smile at his gaze as it flicks past me.

The ride back to the stable fills my head with the sounds of more screaming. Gasping people waving to get the attention of the tributes, I fill my head with strange thoughts, as I mindlessly smile and wave.

I find myself standing beside the chariot as the parade ends. Lamia has wandered off into the crowd, obviously looking for her mentor, while I stand in wait for mine. "Are you just great abs? Or can you actually fight like a man?" comes a girls voice from behind me. I spin around, the girl from district one, with her district partner are standing in front of me. I smile at her, yet her expression remains sharp and her partner is just as fierce. They aren't taking this as a joke, but as the start of an alliance. I wipe the smile off my face, looking into the girls eyes, they are a blue, but not an ocean blue, a steely blue, "I can fight" I say, unlocking my eye contact with her, and looking away. I find the boy from district two; his eyes are dark, glaring in my direction. His district partner lingering behind him, as he marches over to where I am standing. I feel a certain aura to him that makes me uncertain of whether he actually likes the idea of allying with me, or whether he is going to do it for the sake of doing it.

I feel the girl from ones eye resting on me, "What about the girl from your district? Would she fight for us?" she asked, running her hand down the side of her frilly costume. I had to wonder, whether Lamia would actually fight with me, or just watch as I die. "I don't know." I utter curtly, shifting my gaze off her again, and shifting my weight to the other foot. "The real question is, would you care if we killed her?" asked the boy from one. I looked up at him, thinking deep within myself the true answer, which was probably yes. But for this circumstance I knew I had to choose the alternative. "No" I said, grimacing briefly, showing I have no real care.

I felt a slight note of a tense atmosphere between the group, I wondered if it was always like this. "What is your main weapon?" asked the girl from two, I found her, she has dark eyes, dark hair and a fierce expression that I would suspect any career would have in their range of facial expressions. "I can do a bit of everything." I say, voice attempting to sound strong, yet showing a hint of weakness, I am a little scared of this group, but I know it is my hope of success. The careers look like they think I am not quite worthy, but they'll take me along anyway. This is fine, but I thin I would be the first one they would turn on in a fight.

The girl from one has lost her harsh expression, when I looked back over to her; she was looking down, well down. I cleared my throat, indicating that I have a face to look at as well. She looks up, embarrassed, then looks away, I catch a small glimmer in her eye, maybe she likes what she see's. I wouldn't know, because a mentor from district one, a tall beautiful woman. She places a hand on the girls shoulder, drawing her attention to the mentor. "Time to go." comes the quick, swift voice of the mentor. Not needing to wait for the others, I turn tail and walk away from scene, back over towards my chariot, and waiting for Mags to reappear to take me to my apartment.

Mag's hand on my shoulder alerts me to her presence, I turn to face her, she is smiling the same happy smile, with the sad eyes that tell me she is somehow upset. I smile grimy at her and follow her lead back to the elevator. The line is large, twelve groups all wanting an elevator to themselves, careers going up with their large groups of stylists, and mentors, makes me wonder about everyone's history, who is here. What do their parents think about the situation their child is being put through, do they accept it, or do they cry, or did they say noting in attempt of bravado like my step mother? Though I don't think it was bravado, just uncaring.

I find myself standing in the vast lobby on the fourth floor, awaiting the urge to keep walking into the wonder of the apartment I have.


End file.
